


kept promises and old ruins and names carved into stone

by verecundiam



Series: kept promises [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I casually completely ignore minecraft mechanics, MUFFINTEERS FOUND FAMILY MUFFINTEERS FOUND FAMILY, and more - Freeform, bbh's big brother energy is off the charts, dream's smiley, gogy, injuries happen but they're not very graphic, just 4 kids living out in a bunch of ruins because they only have each other, mostly technoblade bc heck yeah rivals but they're all there for a bit, no beta we get dramatically murdered by our fathers, origins for a lot of things! like, platonic only! - Freeform, sapnap's thing for fire, sbi make a cameo, this is an ‘everything is fine’ au now in light of recent smp events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verecundiam/pseuds/verecundiam
Summary: "Would you... would you want to stay here?" Bad wrings his hands, looking away. "Like, like actually stay? I know it's not, ah, not exactly comfortable, or all that homey, but I don't want you two to get hurt out there on your own, and I just... I think maybe you could stay? If you want?""That sounds nice," Sapnap says, because it does.(Or: How four kids managed to build a family, against all odds.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Darryl Noveschosch & Everyone, GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: kept promises [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039066
Comments: 39
Kudos: 588





	kept promises and old ruins and names carved into stone

**Author's Note:**

> just to be clear n everything, this is about the smp characters, not the actual people !
> 
> anyway mom said it's the muffinteers' turn on the found family

With shaking hands, the boy in the forest raises his sharpened stick at the approaching figure. The stick is dripping with rotted gore, and it coats the boy’s hands and sleeves. His sandy hair is matted and darkened with blood and dirt. The entire left side of his face is deeply scratched, criss-crossed with gashes and weeping red. Beneath the blood, his eyes are grass-green, and freckles dot his face, deceptively cheerful. He stares up at the figure, eyes wide and terrified, but still fiercely determined. 

The younger boy tucked into his side is protected by an arm thrown across him. He glares up at the approaching figure with all the malice he can muster. His eyes are dark, and it’s impossible to tell the color—only that they are angry, and they are scared. He clutches the shirt of the older boy with trembling hands. 

They are surrounded by the slowly-dissolving bodies of the undead. The figure carefully steps over them. He holds up a torch, and in the low light he has misty-dark features, glimmering all-white eyes, and small horns on his head. He smiles, gently, and he isn’t really all that much older than the boys huddled against a tree. Twelve, maybe. 

“Uh, hi. Um. That’s gonna get infected if you aren’t careful,” he says, crouching down. 

“I don’t care,” whispers the boy pointing the stick at him. He can’t be older than nine. “Just leave us alone. Please.”

“It’s still dark,” the white-eyed boy warns. “And you’re bleeding. The monsters are already coming for you.” 

“It doesn’t matter. Please, please leave us alone. Please.”

“I have bandages and food and stuff back at my campsite, if you want? Oh! Um. My name’s Bad.” He stands back up, and holds out a claw-tipped hand towards the younger boys. They only stare up at him, frozen.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Bad says, softly. “I promise.”

\------------

_“They’re not coming back, you know.”_

_Sapnap whips around to see another boy, drawing in the dirt with a stick next to the park bench he’s sitting on._

_“Yeah, they are,” Sapnap argues. “They promised.” And he knows it’s true, because Sapnap is seven years old, and he still believes in promises._

_“Sure,” the boy scoffs. “So did mine.”_

_“Shouldn’t you be at the orphanage or something, then? Instead of being mean to me?”_

_“Yeah. Should be. Don’t want to though. And I’m leaving soon, anyway.”_

_This time, it’s Sapnap’s turn to scoff. “You’re not big enough to leave by yourself.”_

_“...You could come with me, if you want,” the boy offers, suddenly quiet. “If they don’t come back for you.”_

_“Sure,” says Sapnap, not really believing it’ll ever happen. “Sure, I’ll come.”_

_“I’m Dream,” the boy sticks out his hand._

_“Sapnap,” he nods, and shakes it. It’s all very formal and official, and Sapnap can’t help giggling. Dream smiles back._

\------------

They did okay, Sapnap thinks. He met Dream at the edge of town, because Dream was right, and they ventured off into the forest together. Into the great unknown. Sapnap learns fast and Dream runs faster, so Sapnap teaches Dream to start a fire and Dream teaches him how to climb trees and sharpen sticks into makeshift swords, and they do okay. They find berries and stray rabbits for food and tear extra clothing into bandages. They clamber into treetops at night, and they run and laugh during the day. 

Sapnap isn’t really sure when he decided that Dream was his best friend, but it was probably somewhere between the first stupid story Dream told at night, and the first time he drove his stick through the head of a spider. Who knows.

But they did okay. They did okay. They were just stupid enough to get caught out at night, and then they had to run, and keep running, and they ran until they couldn’t anymore, and when they couldn’t run Dream turned around and fought, because that’s what Dream does—

And now—

\------------

“I promise,” says Bad, and Dream doesn’t believe him, because Dream has never believed in promises. 

But he’s going to get up anyway, because he’s pretty sure they’re going to die out here if he doesn’t. So he tucks Sapnap into his side and stands, wavering. Bad lowers his offered hand, still untaken, and gestures for them to follow. He’s got at least three knives on him that Dream can see, but he doesn’t take any of them out of their sheaths, just holds his torch up high and lets the light guide them. 

“He seems nice,” Sapnap whispers into his shirt. 

“Yeah,” Dream whispers back. “He does.” 

But that doesn’t mean anything. 

\------------

“Aaaand, there we go,” Bad claps his hands together once he successfully lights his fire. The stone ruins of Bad’s permanent campsite are revealed in the flickering golden light, throwing stark shadows on the forest floor. He’s always thought it looked pretty at night, but it’s also a little frightening, and the two kids stare suspiciously at every shadow. 

Bad sits down at the fire, and makes a show of putting meat on to roast, humming to himself. He carefully doesn’t glance at the two boys. 

After a moment, the dark-haired boy inches forward. Slowly at first, but then dashes quickly to sit next to the fire, dragging the other along with him. 

They look exhausted, hungry, and scraped. The older boy’s bloody face is thrown into sharp relief near the firelight, and Bad suppresses a wince. But for now, he just cooks the food, and hands it out, and softly hums. 

Reluctantly, he ends up grabbing a cloth from his bag once everyone’s finished with his half-charred steak. He doesn’t really want to do this, but he was serious about the infection thing. Zombie nails can do a number on your immune system. “Hey, uh… oh, I’m so sorry, what are your names?”

“I’m Sapnap, and that’s Dream,” the dark-haired boy says, quickly, before the older can protest. 

“Cool. Okay, uh, Dream then, we need to get your face cleaned up or it actually will get infected. I speak from experience, it’s not fun.” Bad holds up the cloth. Dream shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s really not,” Bad insists.

“Well, I don’t want you touching my face,” Dream crosses his arms.

“Bet you don’t want your face to fall off, either,” Bad warns. “‘Cause that’s what’ll happen.” 

Sapnap gasps, tugging on Dream’s shirt. “I don’t want your face to fall off,” he whispers. Dream stares at him incredulously, but wilts when he sees Sapnap’s distraught expression. 

“...Fine,” Dream mutters. “But only ‘cause you don’t want it to fall off. I still don’t care.”

Better than nothing. Bad sprints off to the nearby stream, wetting the cloth in the clean water, and sprints back. Dream tenses as he gets closer, but he lets Bad approach when Sapnap grabs his hand. 

The smaller scratches have already dried, but the deeper ones are still leaking, dripping blood down Dream’s face and staining it rusty-red in the firelight. As gently as he can, Bad starts patting the angry, inflamed skin. He’s not a trained healer, not by a long shot, but he’s had to clean hundreds of similar injuries on himself. Consequences of living alone in the forest, and all. 

“It’s going to scar,” Bad winces as he pulls away, reaching for more of his healing supplies. Bandages, mostly. “Sorry about that, I don’t have any way to get you stitches, and I definitely don’t have potions.”

“It’s okay,” Dream whispers. “Uh… thanks.”

“It’s no trouble,” Bad smiles. Dream raises an eyebrow dubiously. 

“No, really,” Bad insists. “I’m just glad to help.”

\------------

They should leave. They should leave. It’s been two days, and they need to leave. Dream’s sure of it. They have to leave.

Sapnap grins up at Bad. Bad reaches over to him, and Dream resists the urge to run in between them, pull Sapnap away, keep him safe from… 

Safe from what, exactly? Bad reaches over and ruffles his hair, and Sapnap gasps indignantly, but he’s laughing. 

He looks happy. 

\------------

It’s late, and Sapnap really should be sleeping. Dream’s asleep, curled up by the campfire, and Bad is off in the ruins somewhere, so he’s pretty much alone and he should be asleep.

The crunching of grass and leaves behind him warns him of Bad’s approach long before Bad actually sits down next him. Sapnap lets him. Bad’s nice, and he’s funny, and he calls them muffins, and he’s let them stay at his camp for days and days longer than Sapnap thought he would.

“Do you have…” Bad starts, and then stops. Tries again. “Is there anywhere you two need to go?”

Slowly, Sapnap shakes his head. They’d just been running. The forest was dangerous, but they’d liked it. It was far away from broken promises and orphanages and people that don’t care and never will, and it was scary sometimes, but fun. Until the zombies finally got them, of course, but before that, it was fun. 

“Would you… would you want to stay here?” Bad wrings his hands, looking away. “Like, like actually stay? I know it’s not, ah, not exactly comfortable, or all that homey, but I don’t want you two to get hurt out there on your own, and I just… I think maybe you could stay? If you want?”

“That sounds nice,” Sapnap says, because it does. Because it sounds really nice, nicer than anything they’ve had before. And—and he’s surprised at how much he wants it. Wants to have this home, with Dream and with Bad. “We’ll think about it.” 

“Okay,” says Bad, and Sapnap thinks that maybe Bad’s lonely, and maybe Bad wants them to stay, too. The ruins are big and empty, and no one ever comes around. Bad says the nearest village is half a mile away, and that they know him there. But he’s only ever mentioned one friend, and apparently that friend’s parents travel all the time so he’s only around to hang out with Bad sometimes. Bad seems like he likes people. It’s probably really sad for him to be out here by himself all the time. 

Sapnap doesn’t think it’ll be _too_ hard to convince Dream to stay. Dream stopped thinking that Bad’s secretly a murderer, like, two days ago. And Dream likes Bad, Sapnap can tell, even if he doesn’t want to. He makes Dream laugh, almost as much as Sapnap can—and best of all, he offered to maybe possibly teach them some real fighting skills! So yeah.

It could be really nice.

\------------

“I’m sorry it’s not very good, it’s all I could find,” Bad tugs on one of his horns, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“No, no,” Dream shakes his head, “It’s perfect. Um. Thank you.” He takes the smooth wooden mask from Bad’s hands. It’s painted a solid white, and the holes for the eyes and nose are poked so that it doesn’t look like there are any at all. He straps it on. 

“You don’t need it, you know,” Bad says. 

“I know. It just… it just makes me feel better, I guess,” Dream shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. But it’s true—it feels like a shield, almost. It covers his entire face, and it’ll keep people from staring at the scarred left side, and from just… seeing him in general. Like hiding without hiding. 

Dream’s really only good at hiding and running. And jumping, sometimes, and every once and a while he’s good at driving a stick through a zombie’s eye, but he’s mostly just good at hiding and running. 

But Sapnap’s good at being brave, and Sapnap wants to stay here. ‘Cause Bad’s good at being nice and being strong, and he’s just good in general, really. Dream… Dream wants to stay, too, he’s just not sure he knows how. 

But the new mask helps. It helps.

\------------

“We have to make that thing less creepy,” Sapnap flicks the wood of Dream’s mask, and Dream swats his hand away. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Uh…” he starts digging through their chests of assorted stuff, until he somehow manages to pull out a little tin of old black paint, apparently from one of Bad’s more artistic phases. “Aha! Okay, stand still.”

Dream tries his best to hold himself stock-still as Sapnap takes an old paintbrush to his mask, humming softly. 

“There!”

More than a little scared, Dream takes the mask off and flips it around to reveal a simple, slightly-wobbly smiley face painted on the front.

“Sap, I think you made it worse,” he laughs.

“Did not!”

With a grin, Dream puts the mask back on, and watches Sapnap wince.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little scary. I think we got white paint somewhere, we can fix it—”

“Nah. I kinda like it.”

\------------

“How in the world did you manage that?” Bad cranes his neck to see the top of the tree, where Sapnap is irreparably tangled in the branches.

“We were, uh, doing… uh… well… tree parkour.”

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ Bad crosses his arms, incredulous. “What made you think tree parkour was a good idea?”

“Dream did it just fine!” Sapnap protests.

“It’s true,” Dream shouts down from the tree across from Sapnap. Dream is casually laying in one of the branches, and he swings around to hang upside-down by his legs. “It’s a lot of fun.”

“And yet,” Bad gestures to Sapnap.

“And yet,” Dream laughs. 

\------------

“Again.”

Sapnap backs away, and then leaps, jabbing his rough wooden sword downward with all his strength. Dream dashes to the side, simple wooden hatchet in hand, slicing across Sapnap’s chest in a sweep he just barely manages to parry. 

“Sap, leave jumping for when you have more leverage, it just unbalances you otherwise. Dream, you left your entire side open there, remember you don’t have a shield this round,” Bad calls. “Go again.”

\-----------

“Is it okay if I come up?” 

Bad turns around from his perch on the highest broken column in the ruins. It’s just barely wide enough for two people, so he nods and scootches over, letting Dream clamber up beside him. 

“What’s up?”

“I was just… hm. I, uh, I was just wondering—uh—why are you here?”

“Watching the sunset, silly,” Bad reaches out and ruffles Dream’s hair, and he squawks in protest. 

“No, no, like, here. Like the ruins. It would—it would be a lot warmer in the village.”

“I never would’ve found you two, though.” 

“But you would’ve been warm.” 

“True,” Bad sighs, laughing a little. “That’s true.”

They’re quiet for a moment, as the sun starts to slip below the treetops.

“You know what I look like,” Bad says with a shrug, gesturing vaguely to his face, all shadow and light. “Villagers aren’t, uh, too keen on it, usually. Living out here is sort of a win-win. They don’t have to deal with me,” he smiles slightly, “and I don’t have to deal with them.”

“Oh. I… didn’t really think about that,” Dream’s frown is obvious, even behind his mask. 

“That’s ‘cause you’re a good kid,” Bad grins, and reaches over to ruffle his hair again, but this time Dream manages to duck. “And it’s okay. I like it out here anyway, and now I’ve got you two with me.”

\------------

“Sapnap, you do realize that that headband isn't keeping your hair out of your face at all?” Bad laughs, and yanks at the loose ends hanging down from the knot. Sapnap slaps his hand away.

“I think it looks cool. ‘Sides, it was made from the last bit of our old bandage-shirt, so I didn’t waste any of my new ones,” Sapnap argues.

“I think it looks cool!” Dream shouts from… somewhere. Probably a tree. 

“See? Dream thinks it’s cool,” Sapnap crosses his arms and grins.

“Fine, fine,” Bad shakes his head.

\------------

“Hey!” Dream whispers harshly. “This is _my_ hiding spot.”

“Well, now it’s mine,” the kid in blue huffs. 

“I was here first!”

“You were not. I was absolutely here first.”

“No! No you weren’t!”

“Yes I was. Now shut up before we get seen.” 

Both Dream and the stranger hide themselves farther underneath the hay bales in the alleyway. He _knew_ it was a bad idea to hide in the village. There’s no way Sapnap won’t find him in here. 

“Why are you hiding, anyway?” Dream turns to the stranger, who’s wearing an old backpack and clutching a cloth bag to his chest. 

“Stole some bread,” he shrugs. “Got caught.” He digs around in the cloth bag and takes out a half-loaf. “Want one?”

“Uh… sure.” 

As Dream predicted, it only takes, like, ten minutes max for Sapnap to find him in the pile of hay. 

“Haha, yes! Gotcha—wait, who’s this guy?”

“I dunno. Who’re you?” Mouth full of bread, Dream shrugs, turning to the kid in blue. Man, he really is wearing a lot of blue. 

“George,” he says. 

“Cool,” says Sapanap. 

“He’s being hunted down ‘cause he stole bread,” Dream explains, rather unhelpfully.

“Here,” George shoves another half-loaf into Sapnap’s hands. “Bread.”

“Dream, he gave me food, I’d die for him now.” Sapnap pulls Dream up out of the hay pile by his shoulders. 

“I know, right?” Dream turns around and holds out a hand to George. “Wanna come with? We’ve got a camp a bit away from here.”

“Sure, I guess,” says George, and that’s that. 

\------------

“Hey guys, how’s it going, oh there’s another one,” Bad arrives back home at the campsite, a pile of smoked fish in his arms. 

“Hiya, Bad,” Dream waves. “This is George. He’s turning fourteen in three months and his favorite color is blue and we haven’t asked him his favorite animal yet but he likes cats so he’s cool. And he’s colorblind.” 

“Hello,” George says, not looking up from where he’s digging through his pack—apparently, because Sapnap’s headband and Dream’s mask are a ‘theme’ and he needs to match. With a victorious shout, he drags out a pair of white goggles. 

Dream doesn’t want to know why he has them, but hey, they do match the theme. 

“Warn me next time you bring a friend over,” Bad chides. “You’re lucky I got extra fish tonight.”

“He brought bread though,” Sapnap points to the half-full bag. 

“I did bring bread,” George holds up said bag, and takes out three loaves to demonstrate.

“Oh, that’s fine then.”

\------------

“Do you… uh. Um. Do you have anywhere to go?” Sapnap asks, the third night that George stays. 

“Aw, getting tired of me already?” George swings his legs from the high stone wall he’s sitting on. Sapnap hops up next to him. 

“You suck, but no,” Sapnap gently punches him in the shoulder. “Just realized we kinda kidnapped you.”

“I…” George hesitates. “No. I have nowhere to be, and definitely no one who wants me to be there. Why?” George carefully doesn’t look at Sapnap. Doesn’t want to see whatever expression is on his face. 

“Okay. ‘Cause I was just thinking… you could stay, if you want to. I know for sure Dream wants you to stay, and I think Bad really wants you to stay, and I kinda-sorta-maybe want you to stay, but you don’t have to if you don’t wanna, y’know?” Sapnap scuffs his boot heels on the edge of the wall, and when George quickly glances over at him, he’s fiddling with the ends of his headband. He looks nervous. 

“Like, stay? Stay-stay, for good?”

“Yeah. Only if you wanna.”

“I… think I’d like that.” 

“Yeah, George!” Sapnap cheers. “George-a-roony! George-o!”

“Stop. Stop it.”

“Georgie! Gorgie!”

“I beg of you.”

“Gorgy! Gogy!” Sapnap gasps, and cackles. “Gogy! That’s it, you’re Gogy now!”

“I hate you and everything you stand for,” George shoves him to the side, but he’s smiling too. 

\------------

_George hops out the window, strapping on his simple blue backpack, full of everything he could take. He’s not coming back here, and he never, ever wants to see this stupid house again._

_Anywhere is better than home. Even the worst desert would be better than home. Even getting torn apart by zombies and skeletons would be better than home._

_So he runs off into the night, his homemade bow firmly in one hand, a weak torch in the other, and he doesn’t ever come back._

\------------

“Be safe, okay?” Bad hands them another sack of food. 

“You don’t have to worry about us,” Dream says. 

“I’m going to worry no matter what,” Bad chuckles. “That’s kinda my job.”

“Well, now your job is to go hang out with Skeppy, and let us go get into trouble by ourselves,” Sapnap smirks. 

“Please try not to hurt yourselves,” Bad sighs.

“No promises,” Dream laughs. 

\------------

“We’re going on an adventure,” George says with a laugh, speaking in an over-exaggerated version of his own accent. 

“Last one to reach the base of that first mountain’s a rotten egg,” Dream grins, and he takes off at full speed. 

“Hey! That’s _so_ unfair!” Sapnap cackles, and reaches forward to try and grab Dream’s hood, but he just barely misses and has to scramble to catch up.

“Rude!” George shouts, and he sprints after them. “Don’t you dare leave me here!”

\------------

They shouldn’t have gone for the mountains, Dream thinks. The caves in the forested mountainside gape like toothy maws, and monsters come shambling out of them in droves. There are so many, and it’s so dark, and it’s all he can do to keep a grip on Sapnap’s wrist in one hand and hold his axe in the other.

It’s familiar, and for a brief second he’s nine again, and Sapnap is all he has, and his face is crying blood, and they’re going to die. But this time there’s George to look out for too, and there are so many more monsters here than a few zombies, and Bad’s not here to come and save them. Not this time.

\------------

“I’ll do it!” Sapnap waves his torch wildly in front of the forest, ignoring the steady pain in his ribs and the way his voice breaks. “I’ll—I’ll burn it all down, I swear I will!” 

“I’m certainly not going to stop you,” George pulls Dream closer to him, so they’re both leaning against the stone of the mountainside. Two arrows stick out of Dream’s front, one in his shoulder and one in his arm, and George’s hands flutter around him like he’s trying to figure out what to do but can’t, even as George’s mangled ankle bleeds steadily. 

It’s easy, too easy, to ignore his own trepidation and Bad’s voice in his head _(don’t do it, it’s not worth it you muffinhead, think of the animals, what if someone’s in there, hurting just like you)_ and to wave the torchfire through the grass, the branches, the leaves, until everything is blazing. And it spreads, this great wall of flame, licking against Sapnap’s feet and fingertips. It’s beautiful. He wonders why he doesn’t feel warmer, and he wonders why he feels nothing but scorching heat. 

(This forest will _pay_ for what it has done. For what it did to Dream, bleeding out onto George and the rocks, and to George, who can’t keep going now, falling limp against Dream, and to him, for making him watch. For making him watch as Dream shoves him out of the way of a skeleton, catching the arrow in his shoulder, and for making him listen as George screams but they can’t find him, it’s too dark and _they can’t find him—_ )

He wakes up, suddenly, and half of the forest is gray and flattened and nothing but ash, and it’s taken a chunk of the mountainside with it. Good. 

George weakly hands him a roll of bandages and a tin of some kind of cream, trying not to jostle Dream—who’s still unconscious, has been since they pulled the arrows out of him, his unmasked face pressed into George’s shoulder. 

Sapnap gives him a questioning glance, and George gestures to his arms. So Sapnap holds up his arms, and as they start to sting, he realizes they’re covered in light burns. 

...Oh. Whoops.

He takes the bandages and cream. 

\------------

Bad can tell that something’s different when they come back, but mercifully, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t say anything about George’s flat expression as he lets loose arrow after arrow, about the new viciousness in Dream’s leaps and lunges with his axe, about the flint and steel that Sapnap always keeps in his pocket. Just in case. 

\------------

“What’re you doing?”

Sapnap doesn’t look up at Dream. He scratches another line into the stone, using a sharpened iron nugget that was excess from some of their forging. 

“Is that your name?” George leans over his shoulder to get a closer look, and Sapnap shoves him away, still not looking away from the stone wall.

“Thought I’d just… I dunno. Mark that I was here, I guess. Proof that I exist, y’know?” He clumsily carves the last curving _P._

Proof that he exists. It feels like none of them exist, sometimes—four kids, from nowhere and with nowhere to go. Unwanted, unneeded. 

Dream takes the scrap of iron from his hand. “My turn,” he says simply. 

“Don’t leave me out,” George whines. 

“We should get Bad too,” Dream ignores him, but he hands the iron over once he finishes his own name. 

\------------

 _We were here,_ Sapnap carves underneath the four names, to the dying light of the campfire, long after the others are asleep. _We were here._

\------------

Dream is fourteen when Bad finally, finally lets them all participate in a tournament. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so excited in his _life._ George is focusing on the archery contest, Bad needs to defend his knife-throwing title, and Sapnap’s just barely too young to fight in the big tournament, stuck in the mini one, so Dream will be the only one participating in the main event.

He’s nervous. He’s desperately nervous. But he can beat Bad, George, and Sapnap all at once—sometimes—okay, not usually, but it’s happened twice!—so maybe he can actually make it past the first few rounds. Who knows. 

He can’t wait.

\------------

“Bad. Bad. Bad. I’m doomed. I’m dead. I’m going to die. Bad.” Dream pulls at Bad’s hoodie, trying to keep track of him in the thick crowd of people in the field. 

“What is it,” Bad sighs, not really paying attention—George’s archery contest is in ten minutes, and they can’t find where it’s being held in the throng of people. 

“Technoblade is here. Technoblade is in the tournament, Bad,” Dream frantically points to the side, where the infamous pink-haired teenager is talking to someone—who Bad recognizes after a second as Philza. 

“Oh. Huh. Neat.” 

“That’s not ‘neat,’ Bad,” Dream insists. “He’s literally my age and he’s won, like, twenty tournaments.”

“That’s an over-exaggeration. It was seventeen tournaments, actually,” George interjects.

“Not helping,” Sapnap elbows him. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Dream. You might not even make it to fighting him, anyway.”

“Focus on the parkour course for now, you’ve got that well in hand,” Bad nods, finally spotting the targets for the archery contest. “Worry about Technoblade later.”

\------------

The parkour course isn’t a problem, because Bad was right, as usual. But now, Dream grips his iron axe—provided by the tournament organizers, so everyone has equal gear—and faces off against his first opponent, a man he doesn’t recognize. 

The guy’s strikes are clumsy at best, fatally awful at worst, and it takes shockingly little effort for Dream to sidestep them, trip the guy with his foot, and point his axe at his neck. 

There’s no way that’s it. This is Dream’s first tournament, there’s no way that’s it. There’s gotta be another round or something—

But the referee walks through the dusty arena, takes his wrist, and raises his hand. Dream stares up at him in shock.

“That’s not it, right? There’s another round with this guy?” He asks, letting his incredulity slip into his tone.

“Nope,” the ref laughs. “That’s it, kid. Get ready for your next fight.” 

\------------

“Oooo,” murmurs Phil. “You’re going to have to watch out for that one.” 

“Mm?” Techno doesn’t look up from his multitasking—both sharpening his sword, and keeping Tommy away from it. The kid’s like eight or something, but he’s desperate to find a way to participate. Come to think of it, shouldn’t Wilbur be watching him, not Techno?

“That one, over there. Green and smiley. He’s with BadBoyHalo’s usual group, they’re all participating this time.”

Techno glances up to where Phil’s gesturing with one of his wings. “Parkour kid?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“What makes you think he’s gonna give me any trouble?”

“He’s fast, for one. Dashes all about the place, does a bunch of fancy footwork. Tries to trick you, too, if the last couple fights have been any indication.” 

“I can handle fast,” Techno rolls his eyes.

“Sure, but you’ll have to handle tricky, too.” Phil shrugs. “You’ll beat him. It’s his first tournament. But he’s gonna give you a run for your money, I think.”

And because Phil’s (usually) a good judge of character, Techno trusts his assessment, and resolves to keep an eye on parkour kid—once, of course, he gets his sword back from Tommy. 

\------------

Dream was definitely not supposed to make it this far. The audience seems to think so too, since according to George, pretty much all betting that has taken place has most definitely not been in Dream’s favor. Which is good for George, because George has faith in him or whatever and keeps betting on him (despite Bad’s protests about gamblng), but it has been decidedly not great for Dream’s popularity as a fighter. 

There’s a certain amount of satisfaction though, Dream has to admit, in undermining all those people. 

But… but now, he’s standing only a few short yards away from Technoblade himself. Youngest-ever champion of seventeen consecutive tournaments, feared by all competitors, something something Blood God, something something The Blade.

He’s never been so glad that no one can see his face. He’s sure he looks terrified. 

\------------

Phil had been right to watch out for parkour kid. Techno watched him handily beat every single one of his previous opponents—some with more difficulty than others, of course, but he still managed to kick their butts to kingdom come—and then he’d have the gall to look surprised that he won, every single time. 

Parkour kid—his name was Dre-something, right? Drake? Dreary? Drink? Eh, who cares. Parkour kid stands in front of him now, and if the set of his shoulders is any indication, he’s definitely heard of Techno, and he’s nervous. Good. He should be nervous. 

The signal fires, and they dash towards each other.

\------------

Dream realizes that he’s laughing long after he actually starts. He’s going as fast as he can, he’s pulling out every single trick he knows, and still he can barely keep Technoblade at bay. It’s frankly exhilarating, and—

\------------

—And Techno can’t believe this, this is the best fight he’s had in ages. The kid has lasted past the one-minute mark now, and that’s longer than his last three opponents put together. 

He’s grinning before he can remember to suppress the expression, and he can hear parkour kid cackling from behind his mask. He matches Techno’s ferocity with every strike, and his lightning-quick style couldn’t be more different than Techno’s vicious slices and heavy blows, but they’re perfectly similar in intensity.

And when parkour kid—oh, Dream, that’s right—is finally thrown to the ground, Techno’s sword pressed against his neck, he just—he just wants to keep going. 

“That was awesome,” Dream huffs, out of breath. “How’d you manage to catch my axe like that?”

“You’re stupid fast, but you started moving in a pattern.” Techno holds out his hand, and Dream easily takes it, letting Techno pull him up. “How’d you parry my slashes? Usually that just, bam, works, and your weapon’s on the ground, y’know?”

“Oh, that’s like a balance thing,” Dream holds up his axe, mimicking Techno’s stance. “You put all your weight forward when you slash down, so I parry it to the side instead of trying to block the full force of it. Which is _so_ much force, by the way, holy crap.”

“That’s my specialty,” Techno grins.

“We’ve got to do this again sometime,” Dream says. And that’s the thing—Techno really, really wants to do this again sometime. 

“Do you—” Agh, here comes the awkwardness. “Do you want to be, uh, like rivals or something?” That was terrible. That was awful. Oh boy—

“Ooo, that’s a great idea!” Dream happily nods.

Okay, so… nothing to worry about? 

Techno nods back, without a word, and Dream waves before running off to join his group. 

Huh. Cool.

\------------

“We’ve decided we’re rivals,” Dream says as he hops over the arena fence. “That way we can fight each other all the time. It’s great.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Bad starts, but Dream shakes his head. 

“Nope. We’ve decided it.”

\------------

“You were right. Also, we’re rivals now,” Techno tells Phil as he makes his way back over to his family, trophy in hand. 

“You mean friends?” Phil smiles, raising a brow.

“No!” Techno insists. “If we were friends, we wouldn’t be able to actually go fight each other again properly. So we’re rivals.” 

“So you made a friend,” Wilbur grins. 

“No! He’s not my friend! He’s my rival!” 

“I think it’s great you’re finally making friends outside of us, Techno,” Wilbur slings an arm over his shoulders, and Techno rolls his eyes. “It’ll be good for you.”

“Leave him alone, Wil,” Phil laughs, shaking his head. “If he says they’re rivals, they can be rivals.”

“Aw, I want a rival,” Tommy scowls. 

“You have Tubbo,” Wilbur offers. 

“I can’t just go fight Tubbo!” 

“I mean, you could,” Techno snorts, “but I don’t think you’d win.”

“Okay, that is _not_ true! I could beat Tubbo! I just don’t want to.”

“Suuuurreeee.”

“I could!”

\------------

The rain patters down on the stone of the ruins. They’d moved to their designated shelter for bad weather—one of the old towers, where something of an upper floor still remained to sit underneath. It’s cold and damp, but better than their open campsite. 

Bad grabs their dry blankets from a little chest against the wall. They’re threadbare, old, and a little dusty, but warm all the same. 

Light thunder ripples across the clouds, and Bad turns to smile briefly at the darkening sky. He’s always loved storms, inconvenient as they are. 

George, Dream, and Sapnap have already collapsed in the thinning grass. Sapnap is pressed into Dream’s side, and Dream has one arm over him—old habits die hard, after all. The both of them are flopped over George, who _has_ to be going numb. 

Bad lets himself smile again, gently placing the assorted blankets over them. 

George clumsily reaches for Bad’s wrist, and with a surprising amount of strength, he drags Bad into the pile. 

“I’m still wet,” he tries to protest, but George just shakes his head and keeps an iron grip on his wrist. 

\------------

Dream has an idea, George can tell, and his first thought is _oh no,_ because Dream’s ideas are usually fun, often wild, and _always_ super-duper dangerous. 

His second thought hits him like an avalanche, because Dream turns to him with a mischievous grin, and George is just… struck by how much he wants to return it. Dream has his mask off, he’s been taking it off more around the three of them—

(Sapnap explained, a long time ago, just how important that is—because when Dream is scared he hides, and his mask is his favorite hiding spot, and taking it off means he’s not scared of them at all. George doesn’t want Dream to be scared of him—scared that he’ll leave, scared that he’ll die, because he hates seeing anyone he cares about upset, and for so long he thought Dream wasn’t scared of anything at all.)

—And George, for a moment, can’t believe where he is. There’s a memory somewhere, of screaming and shattered ceramic and hiding under a bed and running for his life, and it’s just… buried, suffocated, underneath Sapnap’s arm around his shoulders and Bad’s gentle eyes and Dream’s terrible ideas. 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Dream says, and the moment is gone, and George dreads what he’s going to say next but leans forward anyway. 

\------------

The manhunts are a bad idea. They’re a terrible, awful, very bad idea. But Dream looks so excited, and Bad’s gone off with Skeppy for a bit, and Sapnap’s off with a friend from a neighboring village (some kid in a too-bright hoodie that just will _not_ stop saying ‘honk’), which leaves George. 

(Actually, Dream asked George specifically to do this long before the others were absent, but that’s not the point. Let him be dramatic.)

The point is that the manhunts are a _really_ bad idea, and him agreeing to them was an even worse idea. But. George… has to admit. They’re fun. 

They’re a lot of fun. 

So they do more, and they get more and more ridiculous and more and more hysterical and more and more terrifying, because running and hiding and quick-thinking are Dream’s specialties, and running and analyzing and aiming and firing are George’s. 

And then they drag Sapnap with them, and because ferocity and courage and sheer determination are Sapnap’s specialties, he’s perfect for it. 

And then they drag Bad into it, because Bad is the only one capable of coming up with any sort of plan ahead of time. Also because he’s actually terrifying when he feels like it, and George and Sapnap need someone terrifying on their side to balance out Dream’s freakishly-scary taunting. 

And there, with Sapnap on one side of him and Bad on the other, with Dream just out of reach, George finally understands what Dream talks about when he goes on and on about the ‘rush of battle.’ About the pure adrenaline when you’re backed into a corner and terrified and all you can do is fight. Dream cackles as he swings a shoddy axe at them, and George screams at the top of his lungs so hard it hurts but he’s grinning. He’s scared out of his mind, but he’s laughing. 

And at the end of it all, they collapse in their ruins at the edge of a campfire they barely had the energy to start, and it’s warm, and it’s nice, and it’s just… something that George never really thought he’d have. That’s all.

\------------

“That’s a lot of mobs,” George warns, gesturing at the open grassland around them, teeming with assorted monsters—all coming straight for them, of course.

“I’ve got an idea,” Sapnap says. 

“Oh?” Dream relaxes his hold on his axe just slightly. “Do tell.”

\------------

Dream lets out a whooping cheer as the grassland burns, and Sapnap turns around to grin at him, silhouetted by the firelight. 

The monsters caught in the blaze scream out into the night, rotten skin and venom and bare bones crackling, blackening, burning. Dream cheers again as the flaming corpses fall, writhing. 

The fire leaves a great scar across the plains. In the gray early morning light, George threads his hand through the blackened foliage and it crumbles to his touch. It stains his fingers with ash. 

\------------

The ruins are too small for them now, and Bad knows it. Has known it for a while. 

He knows it in the restless way that Sapnap paces the walls, the way that George bickers with him while he does it, the way that Dream keeps looking off to the horizon. 

(In the way that Bad knows that Skeppy is just two towns over, almost here, and Skeppy has promises to keep and adventures to have.)

The ruins were huge, when Bad found them, ten years old and alone and hungry and terrified. They were huge, and perfect. Protective walls, haphazard training grounds, little shelters from the weather… 

The ruins are home. For Bad and his three friends—

Oh, who is he kidding. For Bad and his _family,_ they’re home. 

(Sapnap and Dream had their own little family of two long before Bad ever found them, and when he did find them he taught them how to fight and survive and breathe through panic attacks, and then they were a little family of three. And then they dragged in George like a stray cat they found in the rain, and he put on goggles to match the theme and now they’re a family of four, and Bad can’t really describe the emotion that he feels when he realizes that.)

What do you do when home gets too small? For years, Bad had thought ‘home’ was a luxury he would never be able to afford, and now that he has one, he’s just going to… what? Leave it behind? Skip town? It feels almost disrespectful, and Bad traces a claw-tipped hand across the beloved walls. Across the names carved into the stone. 

What do you do? Skeppy has promises to keep, and chaos to cause, and Bad’s family has tournaments to win, places to explore, people to protect, and…

\------------

And they find themselves, one early morning, saying goodbye. 

Temporarily, of course, but it’s still a goodbye—and really, they’re all known haters of goodbyes. 

“I’ll see you all again, I promise,” says Bad, and Dream and Sapnap haven’t believed in promises for years, but maybe this one will be different. 

“You’d better,” says George, who has pulled his goggles down over his eyes for a reason. 

“I promise,” Bad repeats. _I promise, I promise,_ like the repetition will drive it into their heads that promises can be kept. 

They stand there for a moment. Bad turns to look at all of them in turn, like he’s taking them in. Memorizing the way they’re standing in front of him, backpacks on, weapons glinting. 

“This is stupid,” Sapnap mutters, and he yanks them all towards him, wrapping his arms around everyone as best as he can. Bad leans into the hug, and he can feel Dream’s hand on his back and George’s brief second of hesitation before he joins in too, and they don’t really need to say anything. 

After all, they all hate goodbyes. 

\------------

Sunlight glimmers off of the patches of crystal travelling up the side of Skeppy’s face, and he grins..

Bad spares one last look behind him. Barely visible in the misty sunrise, Sapnap shoves George bodily to the side, and Dream throws his head back in laughter that Bad can hear even from this distance. 

He turns away, and mirrors Skeppy’s expression. 

“Shall we be off?” Skeppy waves his hand towards the horizon with a dramatic flourish. 

Bad rolls his eyes, but he laughs. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

\------------

It’s years later, after monsters have been fought, dragons defeated, tournaments won and lost, and promises kept again and again, that Dream pulls George and Sapnap with him to a mountaintop. 

“What are we _doing,”_ George groans.

“You’ll see, you’ll see,” says Dream, bouncing a little in his excitement. 

“Personally, I think mountain-climbing is a very productive way to spend our time.”

“Shut up, Sapnap.”

“Make me.”

“Okay, okay,” Dream laughs, pulling them to the edge. “Look. Just… y’know. Look.” He gestures outward, at the land surrounding the mountain. In the noon sunlight, the lake below them glitters like faceted sapphire, enclosed by the brilliant green of the forest that stretches off into the distance, where an ocean is just barely visible on the horizon.

“That sure looks like a lake,” George drawls. 

“Not just any lake. Our lake,” Dream grins, and he turns to face them. “And this is our mountain. And that’s our forest.” 

Sapnap gapes. “...Wait. Really?”

“Yeah! I just thought—y’know, it might be nice to be able to live somewhere that’s ours, right? So that we could have a place to go back to, and all, somewhere that’s, like. Peaceful, and, and everything,” Dream trails off partway through, unable to quite articulate what he means. They’ve been travelling nonstop for years, sometimes with Bad and sometimes not, and it’s all been amazing, but… well, he misses having a place. Like, the ruins were a place. The ruins were a place that had their names carved into the stone and that they played hide and seek in and trained in and jumped across and laughed in and cried in and… and they lived in. They lived there. 

But he thinks, looking at the way that George traces a hand across the mountainside, and at Sapnap already making camp, that he doesn’t really have to explain it. That they understand. 

Dream isn’t entirely sure when _you’re the worst_ started to translate to _I can’t do this without you,_ and when _best friends_ started to really mean _brothers_. They never really talked about it—whether that’s because they didn’t need to or didn’t want to, he doesn’t know. But he’s got two of his best friends beside him and an invitation for another in his pocket, and they’ve got miles and miles of land, and… and they can do anything. 

Who knows. Maybe they’ll even build a house. 

It could be nice.

**Author's Note:**

> this turned out way longer than I meant it to but I'm pretty proud of it, hope you all liked it !! <3
> 
> might write more of this soon, maybe featuring more sbi and perhaps a tubbo, we'll see


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